Sushness

Transition

It feels strange,
To my mind,
And body,
To be so happy,
For days,
Sometimes,
Just because dragonflies,
Flit about,
And make,
Invisible marks,
On the fabric,
Of space and time.

It feels alien,
Once again,
Breathe in the fragrance,
Of the bright red,
Local rose,
To see,
That over grief,
Happy is what I chose.

It feels erratic,
That I wish to dance,
To songs from Heeramandi,
To don long earrings,
Anklets,
Bangles,
And try out 'chakkars,'
Again and again,
As in a trance.

It feels uncanny,
That I am,
A thousand characters,
In this one life.
Heartbroken,
Grief stricken,
Joyful,
Silently tear-stained,
A dancing girl,
And a husbandless wife.

Widow,
Sits so unfamiliar,
To my being.
Because,
Conditioning of books,
Portrayal of movies,
Distorted my seeing.

Talk runs in my mind,
Of an occult relationship,
Between my dead husband and I.
And at this thought,
That I am not alone ever,
The raintree drops,
Yellow oval leaves,
Like a celebratory golden shower.

The jasmine,
The petrichor,
The cool night breeze,
The smell of coffee liquor,
The sharp dorn,
Of the aloe,
My breath,
Light and shallow,
The army of ants carrying the dead,
The white neighborhood cat,
So chubby and well-fed,
The red hibiscus,
No longer hangs,
At the end of the branch,
The building gardner,
Must have,
Sheared them in tranche.
The sounds of the cooker whistle,
The whiff of devotional incense,
From the floors above and below,
Had all faded,
Bled in the background,
Of my senses and attention.
There is so much life,
And living,
I had missed the seeing,
And the lively sensation.

I shall wear my flowers,
In my hair,
Like "Delta Dawn,"
But not from "days gone by."
Fresh and fragrant,
The must be,
So that,
When I walk beside my husband,
Hand in hand,
I feel like his bride,
Whenever he comes,
To fetch me,
To his 'mansion in the sky.'

© Sushmita Gupta - 872

A Poem for you My Love.

I would never ever,
Want to miss,
The train you are on,
My love.
I should never ever,
Be told,
You are gone,
My love.
I want the whistle,
To know,
That its blow,
Brings joy,
When I am with you,
And sorrow,
When not,
My love.

I want our train,
To meander,
To places,
We have been to,
Made memories,
So sharp and keen,
My love.
Then move on,
To countries and neighbourhoods,
Yet unseen.
The palaces of your,
And my dreams,
My love.

We shall keep promises,
Made to each other,
My love.
Of aging together old,
Of holding gaze,
While we gently embrace,
We behold,
My love.

We shall listen,
To all your favourite music,
And mine,
That has bound us together,
Since the beginning of our time,
And carried us,
Through rain,
Through road-trips,
Through shine,
My love.

We shall lie,
In each other's embrace,
My love,
Till sleep would come.
And only wake up,
To sweet calls of birds,
And lie in bed a little more,
And some.

We shall plan the day ahead,
And laugh at our repeat jokes,
Since we were young.
We shall remain,
The peaceful couple,
We have always been,
And then,
One day,
During the afternoon,
After a carefully chosen meal,
My love,
We shall together,
Drop our last breaths,
In tandem,
While the sun would be out,
But leaving the sky,
The moon,
Somewhere out there,
Sort of gentle and shy.

We shall smile,
Our curated all-knowing ones,
Only we could read off,
Each other's lips,
When nothing was said,
But all was done.

And while we leave together,
Hand in hand,
Not one,
Before the other,
During our exit grand,
Take a last look,
At the sun,
The moon,
The early star,
On the strand,
Rest a while,
On a grain of sand,
And leave for the unknown land.

We shall do,
All of that,
Right my love?
Because,
That is my fantasy plan.

© Sushmita Gupta - 871